Ashley Lister - Turning Up the Heat

Each kiss from the bowl of the spoon left her momentarily shocked.

The shock was quickly replaced by a melting heat.

And then the heat began to spread and warm her sex. Before the awakening desire could grow to an unbearable heat, Bill delivered another blow, stilling her warmth with the shock, and exacerbating her growing need for him.

‘… five …’

Smack!

‘… six …’

Smack!

‘… seven …’

Smack!

She counted the numbers with a raspy breathlessness. Her nipples stood hard inside her bra. Excitement made the heat of her sex feel fluid and desperate.

He increased the force of each blow a little more each time.

And Trudy spat out the numbers with passionate urgency. She was desperate for him to give her the satisfaction she craved and she knew it would only come if he struck repeatedly and with more force.

‘… twelve …’

Smack!

‘… thirteen …’

Smack!

‘… fourteen …’

He paused before delivering the last blow.

She quivered eagerly, dreading the sting of discomfort and desperate to feel its bite against her cheek. When it landed she wanted to moan but she couldn’t decide whether the sound would be born out of disappointment or relief. A blossoming fire of heat ran through her buttocks. It seared a tingling line against her wetness. And she could feel herself teetering on the brink of a climax.

Bill stepped close to her.

He was so near she could detect the citrus notes of his cologne. She could hear the light rasp of his breathing and knew he shared her arousal. She expected to feel the weight of his hardness pressing against her. Almost willing him to take her, she parted her thighs slightly and prepared for his touch.

He slipped a finger against the open split of her sex.

Tremors of raw need bristled through her body.

She thought it wouldn’t take much more than a casual caress of her clitoris and he’d have wrung the orgasm from her. As the finger slipped easily into her sex, lightly pushing between her labia and sending her close to a screaming shriek of release, Trudy knew she was no longer teetering on the brink of a climax. She was about to enjoy the delicious fall into the bliss of the orgasm.

Bill snatched his hand away.

‘You’re very wet,’ he noted.

He tutted softly, almost as though he disapproved of her body’s response. And then he was walking away, returning to the front of house, she guessed. Over his shoulder he called, ‘We should have that steak you’ve prepared. I’ve worked up quite an appetite. I’ll be on table thirteen when you’re ready.’

She remained bent over the station for a moment, struggling to control her breath and not knowing whether she should be furious that he had aroused her and left her unfulfilled or grateful that he had taken the time to excite her so she could enjoy the thrill of wanting him for the remainder of the evening.

She swallowed, shook her head and realised she was smiling.

Dutifully, Trudy served the meal.

The steak was infused with a divine aroma. The whiskey gave it suggestions of smokiness and sophistication that sat well with the steak’s rich flavour. The vegetables were slightly seasoned and proved a perfect accompaniment to the meal. Bill complimented her on the steak’s marinade while they discussed various aspects of business.

He’d been away in the city recording a couple of the projects that Harvey had negotiated. He told her of some of the celebrities he’d met and she marvelled at his easy use of the famous names. She’d been taking care of the restaurant and managing her own online business, so the conversation never lulled. She told him about a change in vegetable suppliers to someone who was cheaper and offering a better quality product. She also pitched a handful of ideas she had for changes to the Boui-Boui menu which Bill promised to consider.

By the time they’d finished the meal she felt that one of her appetites had been sated and she was ready to have an evening in Bill’s company where they simply revelled in the pleasures of being together. It crossed her mind that she hadn’t yet mentioned Donny’s abusive text message or Harvey’s forceful invitation to become one of his clients. And, even though she knew both of those topics needed addressing before Bill had to return to the city, there was something more important that she knew they needed to discuss.

‘This muffin,’ she said, pushing the dessert in front of him. ‘Can you tell me what’s missing?’

It was early enough to be still dark. The suggestion of dawn was nothing more than a smudge of diluted night on the horizon. Trudy ran through the morning, savouring the pleasure of getting her muscles working and enjoying the endorphin rush that came from the start of her daily exercise regime. She was dressed from cap to trainers in baby-pink exercise gear. There was a small pink bag on her hip containing two bottles of isotonic drinks and a vacuum-sealed muffin. The bag bounced lightly against her hip with each determined step of her run. She liked the weight. It was comforting and the slap of the bag reminded her of the punishing pleasure she had enjoyed with Bill through the previous night.

Deliberately, she shook that memory from her thoughts.

If she exercised when she was feeling horny she usually began to feel lightheaded after the first fifteen minutes. She supposed it was because the blood was trying to rush to too many different places at the same time. Given all the things she needed to deal with this Monday, there was no time for being lightheaded or passing out whilst exercising. She conceded that, if she got her chores finished early this morning, there might be time to feel horny. But that was something she would explore with Bill when she returned to his cottage. Until she was back in his arms, Trudy wouldn’t let herself dwell on that prospect.

Most mornings she listened to a playlist of rock songs and power ballads while she was running. Each track had been specifically chosen because the music had a powerful beat that helped her maintain a steady rhythm as she ran, or because the lyrics were encouraging and inspirational and appropriate for exercising. During the years that she had been studying, the heavy thump of a bass beat and the familiar thrill of Whitesnake, Aerosmith or Bon Jovi had been tried and tested ways to start the day with a much-needed rush of optimism, rhythm and adrenalin.

But this morning she was happy to run in silence.

Her night with Bill had been sufficiently wonderful to give her all the optimism, rhythm and adrenalin she needed. Rather than rely on old but familiar songs she was happy to listen to the first faltering sounds of morning birdsong and the slap of her pink trainers on the night-slick pavements.

She headed away from Boui-Boui towards the city. Running past the old market, only just beginning to open its doors to cleaning staff and the most diligent market stallholders, she headed onwards, past the familiar sights of closed high-street shops and the first of the slowly awakening stores.

A newsagent was pushing an A-frame board outside his shop. The board showed a newspaper headline: Master Baker Judge: It’s Not Fair – Exclusive!

Trudy made a mental note to buy a copy of the newspaper on her return journey. She knew it would be just as easy to get the whole story from Charlotte and Daryl when saw them at Sweet Temptation. Likely they would both have facts that weren’t contained in the newspaper. But she enjoyed the TV show as much as either of her friends and she was curious to know which judge was now embroiled in a scandal.

But she had no intention of buying the newspaper just yet. Holding a newspaper would make her morning run difficult and she didn’t want to do anything to spoil the pleasure of her routine.